


Remnants

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Series: Sportsfest 2018 [39]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: First Person, Introspection, M/M, Post Kitaichi Disaster Game, Sad and Angry Kindaichi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 12:46:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15972602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: I tried so hard. I really did. Why wasn't that enough? Why wasn'tIenough?





	Remnants

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Sportsfest bonus round 2.

I told him I hated him. I meant it then, I mean it now. That stupid king, stepping on the peasants like we can’t feel him grinding away at everything we used to enjoy.

There’s some dumb saying about forgiveness being good for the soul. What a load of bullshit. All it does is make me feel weak and pathetic for not standing my ground, so I don’t forgive Kageyama for breaking up the team.

Most definitely, not for ruining what we used to have between us.

It’s an old story. Boy meets Other Boy. Boy falls in love with Other Boy, and Other Boy tells Boy they’ll be great together. No one can stop Boy and Other Boy. That is, except, that Boy could never keep up with Other Boy, relegated to picking up the dragging ends of Other Boy’s royal robes until he can’t do anything but stop and scream into the void.

Okay, not an old story, but I can barely remember what it’s like to not feel this way.

I don’t even know if I want to play anymore, even if I know he won’t be there. The slap of a ball hitting the court is like a gunshot in my ears, and I can’t help but wait for the bitter ranting that none of us are good enough, that _I’m_ not good enough. To hell with him. I AM good enough, and I always was.

But one thing I can’t shake is this gross feeling in my belly, that he’s sitting at home alone in his room full of posters I hung because he doesn’t own anything without a purpose. He’ll probably take them down, maybe throw them away. I really couldn’t care less.

I really wish I cared less.

Sorry isn’t happening because I’m not, but I have a sinking feeling regret isn’t going to leave me alone to lick my wounds. He’s never been good at building bridges, which doesn’t bode well for his ridiculous talent for burning them. Is he ever gonna find someone who will meet him halfway, even when he doesn’t even have a realistic expectation for what that is?

Maybe he will. Maybe whatever school he ends up at can teach him some lessons on teamwork and even some goddamn manners. He might find a new boyfriend who will sit and speak and play fetch at his command. Whatever. He isn’t my problem anymore. I’ll probably never have to see Kageyama Tobio again, and it’s better this way.

Even if I face him in a game, I’ll never have to look at him like the guy who took everything we were together, spit on it, and said it wasn’t enough. He can just be some faceless enemy, one I happen to know the sound he makes when he’s in the mood or how hangry he gets between breakfast and lunch or that I was the first person who ever asked him what his favorite color was so I could write our name in that shade of ink on the underside of my desk at school.

I also know the way he smiles when he buys a drink from the vending machine and he gets to hold it for the first time. I know that little space right under his ear makes him shiver when I kiss it. I know he forgets his own birthday but always remembers mine.

I know I miss him already. I miss his stupid laugh, like some sort of cartoon villain getting tickled. I miss how blue his eyes are. I miss the way his eyebrows scrunch together when he knows he should know something but doesn’t. I miss the way he says my name when he’s excited, when he’s horny, when he’s insecure about himself and about us.

God, I’m gonna start crying again, and it’s all his friggin fault. Why couldn’t he appreciate people for how hard they try? Why couldn’t he figure out how to explain himself without being a dick? Why couldn’t he tell us what he wanted instead of just ranting about what he didn’t?

Why am I not enough for him? Why can’t I fix him? Why do I just want to go over to his house, hug him, and sleep next to him so he’ll wake up thinking this hellish nightmare never happened? Why do I hate myself more than I hate him?

No, no, no, that’s not right. I don’t hate myself; I hate the way he twisted me up into something I never wanted to be. Who wants to be sad, angry, and resentful, anyway?

You know what? I can’t do this anymore. Fuck it. Fuck everything. Fuck him, fuck me, fuck _this_. Fuck. Just . . . fuck.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry, Kindaichi, my bb boy. :'(


End file.
